


A Moment, For You

by surrenderdammit



Series: Little Falcon [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Kid Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderdammit/pseuds/surrenderdammit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Sweetheart, You're Mine" and "(Bee) My Queen". You don't need to read those to understand this. Pure fluff in this one, no plot. Rated T to be on the safe side.</p><p> <i>His son sounds utterly betrayed by Arthur’s admittedly pathetic defence against their Queen. Merlynn huffs a laugh against his lips before pulling away, leaving Arthur slightly dazed and embarrassed. “Oh look, what have we got here? Is it the lost Prince of Camelot hiding underneath his parents’ bed, mm?” she teases.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment, For You

**Author's Note:**

> I caved to the urge to write a kid fic. I am sorry. Hopefully I haven't mucked it up; writing anything with OCs is a tricky business. 
> 
> No porn in this one, though I am so tempted to do preggers porn. Maybe a part 2 or something. IDK.
> 
> Enjoy this random piece of fluff! I apologize for still lacking a beta; English isn't my first language.

.

Arthur startles from where he sits by the table, surrounded by papers and books, when the door to his chambers is flung open only to be slammed shut within moments. He’s already half-way out of his chair, reaching for his sword that hangs on the back of it, by the time he registered what’s happened. There’s a small whirlwind of reds and golds tearing its way through the rooms, making its way straight towards him. Arthur sighs and drops back down in his seat, letting go of his sword just in time to catch the wayward storm that has evidently chosen to invade his chambers today.

With a grunt, he reaches down to where it launched itself onto his lap, securing it against him to keep it still long enough to catch his bearings.

“Father!” his energised four year old son shrieks, causing him to wince at the volume. “We’ve to hide!”

His son proceeds to tug at him impatiently, attempting to climb off his lap again, presumably in order to drag him off to ‘hide’. Arthur sighs, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he slips his hands around to grip under his son’s arms, careful as always as he’s reminded how small and fragile he seems beneath his hands. Lifting the boy up, he settles him more comfortably in his lap so those sharp, bony knees no longer dig into his thighs. He blames Merlynn for the boy’s skinny build.

“William,” he calls to the boy, catching his attention before he can start protesting beyond the impatient squirming he’s currently attempting. “What have we said about barging into rooms like that?”

Sensing a lecture, William pouts. Arthur is unimpressed and simply raises a brow in question. “I’m not allowed to?”

The eyebrow is effective. He’ll have to thank Gaius at some point. “It isn’t proper for a Prince of Camelot. You knock on rooms you know might be occupied and you enter in a dignified manner. Was slamming the door open to the Royal chambers dignified, Prince William?”

William crosses his arms over a puffed out chest, sullen. “You don’t knock, Father.”

“Well, I am the King,” Arthur replies, his go-to response that always leaves Merlynn rolling her eyes but has worked well on his son so far. After the many trials and errors of raising a child and heir, Arthur is not going to dismiss whatever does work on his exceptionally stubborn child. He has found new respect for his late father and his old nurses in these past few years. Though Arthur still maintains he cannot have been worse than the little terror they’ve been gifted with, Merlynn remains sceptical and often says ‘like father, like son’ whenever she can. He is of a firm belief that Merlynn is to blame for most of their son’s frustrating moments.  

“When I’m King, I’ll slam _all_ the doors,” William mutters, making Arthur stifle a laugh.

“Mmm,” he hums, non-committal, before leaning in with a grin. “One more thing; a Prince of Camelot does not _hide_.”

Wide-eyed, his son is reminded of just why he barged in here in the first place and starts tugging at Arthur’s tunic again, frantic. “But it’s _Mother!_ ” he hisses, to which Arthur dutifully widens his own eyes in mock-fear, lips twitching.

“Well then, that is different. One _does_ hide from the Queen of Camelot. Quite right, son,” he says gravely, nodding. William copies him, looking as serious as a four year old can; clothes rumpled and hair a mess. There’s a smudge of dirt across his nose and Arthur notes his hands are filthy as well. He wonders what he’s been up to this time.

“Now, where do you think she won’t look?” he muses as he allows William to finally climb off his lap. He watches as his son stands and looks around, eying the rooms with a critical eye. “Under the bed, perhaps?”

He remembers a time when Merlynn had hidden underneath there herself, but keeps it to himself, entirely amused by the way his child’s face lights up in triumph before he runs into the bedchamber and dives underneath the bed. Chuckling, Arthur returns to his papers, reaching for his quill to continue looking over the newest tax calculations. He acknowledges William’s shouted “Thanks Father! Don’t tell!” with an “Of course not, son” in reply. He wonders how long it’ll take Merlynn to come storming in after her errant child and settles in for the wait, letting the numbers and letters draw his attention.

An unknown time later, the door slams open a second time. It can’t have been long, because his son is not a patient child and seems to still be under the bed if the giggles are of any indication. Arthur rolls his eyes, making a note to work on his son’s stealth and tactics the moment he has the opportunity as he pushes the chair out from the desk and tilts it away. Looking up, he watches as his wife closes the door with a little more grace before she makes her way inside. He knows she’s aware of just where their son has hidden himself, but she’s got her eyes narrowed and sweeping the place in an exaggerated way that tells him William is most likely peeking out from underneath the bed. Really. _Stealth_ , child.

“Husband,” Merlynn intones in haughty, impervious tones she only uses when she’s teasing or dealing with annoying noblemen and noblewomen. Her lips are twitching, fighting a smile that is fully visible in the pretty gleam of her eyes. She comes forward to stand by where he sits, looking down at him with a mock-serious glare. Arthur sweeps his gaze up and down her frame, taking in the way her dress slants off her shoulders and shows off her bosom, larger now as her belly swells with child. She isn’t large yet, the bump still a shy thing that only slightly tents her dress, but it stirs something in him nonetheless. He can’t resist reaching out to rest a hand against her, eager for the day when he will be able to feel his second child’s life spark and respond to him.

Merlynn’s smile is soft and indulgent when he finally tears his gaze away to meet her own. “Wife,” he replies a few beats late, returning her smile with a crooked one of his own. He shrugs at the raised brow he gets in return. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your exceptional company?”

Scoffing, the first real hint of annoyance so far, Merlynn crosses her arms under her breasts, causing a pleasant distraction. “ _Your son_ , Arthur, has seen fit to lock his Latin tutor in the classroom and proceed to join _your Knights_ at _sword practise_.”

Arthur winces, sending a prayer for patience, because in this he cannot fault his son. Latin is truly horrid, and the tutor is a dry old grump of a man that could put noble, polite Sir Lancelot to sleep and drive a Griffin to self-destruct in despair. Practise with his Knights, which for William mostly entails being humoured and essentially spoiled with attention, would be irresistible in comparison. Merlynn, however, is determined for their child to ‘have some brain to go with the brawn you’ll beat into him, by Gods Arthur, I will not have a dumb stock of muscle for a son’. Mostly, Arthur suspects his wife mourns the chance to teach their son the magic he didn’t inherit, though he knows it has also to do with the unsteady years of the beginning of his reign when the need of an heir was pressing and there was more war than peace. Like Arthur, she is determined to give their son all the tools he will need to lead the life of an heir to one of the most powerful kingdoms in the land, to give him all he needs to survive. He cannot fault his wife for it, no matter how painful Latin may be.

“Poor Master Peyton,” Arthur says at last, completely insincere, causing the giggles from their bed to start up again. Merlynn narrows her eyes but doesn’t look over to alert their son of what she knows. Arthur clears his throat to cover up the laugh that wants to escape. “Have you spoken to our son?”

Huffing, Merlynn’s eyes crinkle in amusement. “Our little Prince ran the moment I came to find him. Sir Gwaine alerted him of my approach. I think you’ll find him in excellent condition for early morning drills for the foreseeable future, my dear husband, for ale and wine will not agree with him for quite some time.”

Unable to stifle a laugh at that, Arthur reaches out to circle his beloved’s bulging waist and pull her in to stand between his spread thighs. Her arms finally drop from their crossed position, coming to rest on his shoulders. “Indeed? Am I to take it you have yet to find our Prince? Perhaps we should send out the guards to search for him. It would not do for the heir of Camelot to be missing, my darling.”

Swatting half-heartedly at him, Merlynn rolls her eyes. “I think I can be trusted to find my own child when he is being a prat. I’ve had practise, husband mine. Like father, like son.”

Arthur smirks, leaning in to nuzzle at her chest if only to have her laugh. If he steals a kiss, it’s neither here nor there. “Hmm. And where do you propose you’ll find him, little bird?”

“Oh I have a hunch. I think I might even know how to flush him out,” Merlynn trills, grin wicked and eyes glinting dangerously. Before he can process much beyond that, she has his face cradles in her dainty hands and mouth captured with her soft, moist lips. She kisses him deep and dirty, surprising a moan out of him before he can help it. He stiffens in surprise, quietly horrified but helpless against the warmth she stirs in him.

“EW!” he hears the petulant protests their son exclaim. “Gross! _Father!_ ”

His son sounds utterly betrayed by Arthur’s admittedly pathetic defence against their Queen. Merlynn huffs a laugh against his lips before pulling away, leaving Arthur slightly dazed and embarrassed. “Oh look, what have we got here? Is it the lost Prince of Camelot hiding underneath his parents’ bed, mm?” she teases, stepping away from Arthur embrace to make her way over to their bed. Arthur turns and looks over to where William’s upper body is sticking out from under the bed, hair a dusty mess and arms crossed with an impressive pout on his round face. Merlynn is standing over him with a brow raised, swirling her fingers in the air and eyes flashing gold as her magic drags him out completely.

“You, young man, have someone to apologize to and a lesson to repeat. There will be no treats for tonight’s supper and instead of practise tomorrow you will work on your reading,” Merlynn declares, stern and unwavering in the face of their son’s pitiful face.

“But _mother_ —!” he wines, stomping a foot. Arthur frowns, deciding to head this one off now that he has regained his composure.

“William,” Arthur calls, demanding his attention. “There will always be consequences to your actions. You will endure them.” Before the child can throw a fit in his inability to comprehend why his parents are being seemingly unfair, Arthur softens his voice. “Do so and I promise to take you on a hunt soon. But only if you behave. Are we clear?”

Appearing to be appeased, William nods, still surly but accepting of his fate. Merlynn shoots Arthur a look of gratitude; he knows she’s had a hard time to deal with their son’s tantrums lately as the baby’s demands on her body increases. Gesturing for William to come over, he pulls him in and ruffles his hair to dislodge the worst of the dust.

“Try not to upset your mother more, son,” he murmurs, swiping some dirt off his face with a thumb. “She shouldn’t have to be running after you through the castle in her condition.”

William frowns, wrinkling his nose, at the treatment or the words Arthur doesn’t know. “Sorry,” he grumbles, squirming guiltily as he looks over to where Merlynn is approaching them. “Is the baby okay, mother?”

Merlynn smiles, coming to stand by them and rests a hand on his head. “The baby’s fine. Now, I’ll go call for Nurse Enndolynn so she can come fetch you. Your day isn’t over yet, my little Prince.”

With that she goes to open and lean out the door to call for a servant, relaying her request, before returning. She reaches down to lift William up and prop him on her hip, ignoring Arthur’s worried frown to walk them over to the changing screen where he can hear her wet a rag in the bowl of water they keep there. The grumpy protests from their son confirm that she is most likely washing the dirt from his face and hands. Arthur smiles softly before he returns to the mess of documents on the table. He has little desire to get back to work after this unexpected distraction, but steels himself with the motivation that the sooner it gets done the sooner he can be rid of it.

He loses himself to the sound of Merlynn and William moving around in the background, losing track of time until a knock on the doors startles him out of it. William runs past to answer it, pulling it open and greeting his nurse with a wide smile. He bids them good bye but doesn’t leave until Merlynn reminds him not to be late for supper.

Once they’re alone, Merlynn walks up behind him and wraps her arms around his neck, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Thank you,” she says, suddenly sounding tired. Arthur frowns, reaching up to dislodge her arms and pull her around so he can drag her into his lap. He settles her so her legs dangle over the armrest of his chair, her bottom pressing against his groin, and her arms once against hooked around his neck. He wraps one of his arms around her back for support, and rests a free hand on her fattening belly.

“Are you all right?” he murmurs, leaning in to nuzzle against her temple, enjoying the soft sigh he gets in return.

“Yes, I’m just tired,” she replies before turning her head, catching his lips in a warm kiss. Breaking free after a moment, she stays close enough to breathe against him, smiling. “Honestly. I’m pregnant, not gravely ill, beloved.”

Arthur moves his thumb in gentle caresses against her belly, nuzzling against her nose with his own and pressing light kisses against her lips for a few moments. “You should take a nap. Go lie in bed, get some rest. I’ll join you when I’m done here, sweetheart.”

Grumbling, Merlynn hides her face in the crook of his neck. “Don’t want to move. I’m comfortable here, thanks.”

He chuckles. “Mmm, me too, but I won’t get much work done like this, little bird.”

“Don’t care,” she pouts, kissing what she can reach of his neck. “Comfortable here.”

It would seem she’s in one of those moods, Arthur notes with an amused grin. “Well, I guess I can work around it for you, my Queen.”

“You better.”

Shaking his head, Arthur reaches out to snatch the paper he’d been perusing and settled in for a few extra hours of work. It was less daunting that he’d think; it was hard to complain with his wife resting so sweetly against him, gifting him with the occasional kiss and helpful comment as he works his way through the pile of papers on the desk. Occasionally, he pauses to cup her belly or breast, simply taking a few moments to enjoy the warmth and softness of her, but otherwise ignores the pleasant throb of his hard length pressed against her little bottom. It’s a gentle burn of passion, not enough of a distraction to keep him from his duties but a pleasant heat in his gut that spurns him on.

He feels languid from a lingering peace and an ever-present love. He’ll enjoy her kisses before they leave for supper with their son, where they’ll entertain their child’s recounting of his day and enjoy the warm company of their family. They’ll put their son to bed together as they do whenever they can, before retiring to their own chambers again. He’ll have her then, in slow and gentle lovemaking, before tucking her in, safe in his embrace. This is the overwhelming happiness he had always yearned for, he knows, and he will do anything to protect it.  

He is content.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Rushed ending because I was going to start writing porn but then I lost my flow. Another time perhaps, lol. Hope you liked it!


End file.
